Shatter Me
by Zachiee
Summary: In which Gaara finds himself rather willingly being placed in a mental institution, with people picking at his brain left and right, and much to his displeasure, he takes interest in someone who doesn't do things according to the book. Gaara/OC eventually, but mostly focused on world building and character development!
1. Chapter 1

Hello there! I'm here to be trash, and offer what I hope will be a well written Gaara/OC story. I won't be focusing on romance, so much as the confused mind of a perturbed boy who needs help! However, eventually, I do hope it'll get shippy, but that will be in due time, depending on how things progress in the first place. Anyways, there are some mild triggers in here, mostly mental institutions being used in a modern day era, and PTSD. I'm sure I can come up with more, but I'm a little eager to get this first chapter out there! I hope you all enjoy :)

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They said I was like Doctor Quinzel before the Joker got his hands on her. Passionate, strong willed, determined, intelligent. She was a genius for her time, a woman of vast intellectual proportions, until one patient, whose name none knew, sunk his fangs of insanity into her seemingly hardened mind, and planted the seeds of chaos. They had rooted in her mind, the vines slowly being nourished by the daily sessions she had more than eagerly thrown herself at, and she was none the wiser. He made her dance, tugging at her strings until her mind was gone, and she was left the shell of a woman who used to be brilliant. She still was, but she wasn't Doctor Quinzel anymore. She was Harley Quinn, lost in the game that the Joker spun with deft fingers, and she was more than willing to stay in the moving stasis that was her new life.

I want to say I am flattered, to be compared to someone such as her, but in actuality, I was almost embarrassed. Like Harleen, I threw myself at my work, picking at only the most dangerous minds. Unlike her, I didn't do it for the money, I did it solely for the thrill. The adrenaline rushed through my veins and it would cause me to twitch in pure anticipation of what was to come. There was nothing more intriguing than working with minds proclaimed to be so deranged, that was was no help for them. I knew better. They played their doctors, toyed with their diagnosis, hiding behind curled lips that were pulled back in a grin so malicious, that it would send a shiver down one's spine. The hairs on my arms would prick, causing goosebumps to race down my arms and legs. It reminded me that I was human. Looking into the eyes of these people, it was grounding.

He called himself Gaara. His files listed severe emotional instability, a history of blackouts which ended in violence, sociopathic tendencies. He was diagnosed a sadist, bipolar, schizophrenic, insane, narcissistic. He was a psychopath, according to the paper that I had received, and I carefully ran my nails along the fine print, lips curled downwards in a frown. Most of these didn't fit together; they were puzzle pieces of multiple puzzles. No matter how much one shoved and twisted and yanked at the pieces of cardboard, they just didn't mesh. They stuck out awkwardly, making it terribly clear that there was something wrong, however, they didn't know _what_ was wrong. He played upon this confusion, worming himself deeper into a hole that the doctors were certain there was no way out of. He was six feet under by now, trapped and fully accepting that he was going to suffocate.

That's when I was contacted. I had been out having dinner with my mother, as per usual for a Wednesday, when my phone had rung. I rarely turned it off, given my profession, and after offering an apologetic look towards the woman that gave me life, I had tapped in the password, and quickly pressed the technology to my ear. The faint ringing of my professor's voice alerting me that this was giving me cancer, but I was able to push it off without skipping a beat.

"Hello, yes, this is Doctor Breen." I went silent, listening to the Asian accent that was heavy through my iPhone. Pursing my lips, my eyes narrowed in displeasure, when the man on the other line introduced himself. Kakashi Hatake. The man was known in the medical world, or at least, in my medical world, given that he had a degree both in psychology and psychiatry, with near perfect marks on any and all testing. In his prime, he had known Obito Uchiha, at least, he had been one of the few who knew him before he flew off his rocker, as the news explained. A mass murderer, obsessed with creating the perfect world, utopia. Where his psychosis had stemmed from had been unclear, given that he had killed himself before he could be properly analyzed by those who were trained to handle fragile minds such as his. Hatake had been twenty at the time, and had blamed himself for what had happened, for not seeing how his friend had slipped, but from from journal entries, it had been found that he had taken an interest in his family history. Everything had gone downhill, and it was then that the institution in Japan was closed down, and moved to Canada. The original plan was America, but the lack of care those who suffered from mental ailments was shockingly low, so the colder part of the world was then chosen.

He had been informed of my status, how I was currently without a patient. My last one had just recently been reintroduced into society, and I was rather reluctant to leave her. Karin was.. She was different, that was for sure. She wasn't a bad person, but her obsessive tendencies caused quite a few problems with the legal systems, which resulted in quite a few treaty and order violations. She should have by all means ended up in jail, but she didn't, pleading insanity and disability to control her "love". It had gotten her away from the possibility of being behind bars, and had landed her in the "nutter" as she fondly called it. It was then that she was placed in my care, and we began the intensive work towards her recovery.

To say that she was my easiest patient would be quite a lie, but to say that she was my most difficult would be a lie too. I generally worked one on one with my patients, as I find that focusing on one at a time helped me provide better care for those placed within my care. Word had obviously passed that I was indeed free again, but it seemed that Doctor Hatake had been the one to get to me first. The joys of being so highly demanded.

I had to apologize to my mother for taking that phone call. She had all but waved a hand and dismissed the notion that I should even be sorry, as it was my job. I offered her a weary smile, pressing my palm to my forehead, and complained about how catching a break seemed to be the most difficult thing in the world. I worked with those who were locked up, arms fastened to their sides, usually doped up on a concoction of pills, and that even paled in comparison to a night to myself, by myself. I was now presented with the option to travel to America, and to leave my home country of Ireland. I did it often, that wasn't the issue, but the patient he had mentioned.. Due to the confidentiality act, he couldn't say much, but made it quite clear I was a last resort. They were at the end of their wits if they were willing to ship such a highly sought after psychologist. Pure, logical desperation, calculated and precise, had caused them to reach out, and my own curiosity and intense love of all things "broken", had caused me to answer.

Dinner had gone by slowly, given that I was itching to get home to look at the file that had been faxed to me. Now this, did indeed break quite a few rules, but Hatake had to be certain that I was the woman for the job. I would be the fourth doctor, he had said. What had happened to the previous three was not mentioned, but the details would surely be in his file. It was mandatory, a file would be incomplete without reasons to prior dismissal. During my weekly outing with my mother, it had begun to rain. This put a scowl on her face as she muttered something about her bones growing weary, and the cold liquid not helping with her old age. I rolled my eyes, pressing a kiss upon her cheek, and making my way to my car. The rain water was indeed cold, but it was nothing a warm shower couldn't fix, but despite knowing that, I still felt a pang of pity for my mother. She was getting old, and the dreary weather of our homeland didn't suit her exuberant personality.

The drive back had been just as painful as the rest of dinner was, and I had practically broken into my own home. A complex case of ethics, offering a challenge to minds that were seemingly unchallenged. He had sold me on his words alone, but I had to be _sure_. Dropping my keys had elected a string of profanities from my mouth, and I fumbled with them, shoving them roughly into the lock, and rushing inside, only pausing to remove my shoes and click the lock on the car door. The last thing I needed would be to be robbed or something along those lines, when I was so focused on other things. It was a flaw of mine, one that could prove to be fatal, if I decided to actually sit and think about it. Alas, I was blinded by the possibility of something I had never faced before, and I took a moment to breathe as I sat down, my chair swirling. My hands had shot out and I had greedily reached for the papers. This was the metaphorical moment of truth; I had a whole report to read after all.

That's essentially how I found myself on the next plane to Canada, my heels clicking on the pavement as I made my way towards the institution. There weren't many of them left, or at least, none that were advertised as openly as this one. It was in a more remote area of Ontario, still suburban, but not as bustling with activity as Toronto was. That isn't to say there weren't people everywhere, there were, but there were less people, something I greatly appreciated. I wouldn't call myself anti-social, but I fit the textbook definition of such a thing quite perfectly. I liked to say I had refined taste in company, preferring minds that were always one step ahead of your average Joe. Sadly, I rarely found that outside of those who were dubbed unfit to reside in society. Karin had been an exception, and the thought of all the time I had spent listening to her /gush/ about a Sasuke Uchiha made me cringe. She didn't even know the man, outside of what she had read about his tragic history, and in her mind, that had triggered her misused saviour complex, and thus the harassment had begun.

It had started out as love notes, and had progressed from there, until she had broke into his house, and lay upon his bed, completely and utterly convinced that they were engaged. That was certainly not the case, Sasuke had stressed that after he had called the cops, and I was only called after she _broke out of_ _a hospital_ , to see him. It had been disconcerting to say the least, but it had given me strength to tolerate her company. She had not been caught for weeks, and then had been admitted into the institution full time, against her will. Rearing my head up, I let out an audible gasp when I almost walk into the door. My right hand moves forward, and I push it open, scowling as I move to the registration desk. The lady sitting there seemed normal enough, until I read her name. Ino.. Ya.. Yamanaka? Was everyone Japanese here?

Clearing my throat to get her attention, Ino looked up at me, her eyes bluer than the ocean, and I paused for a moment, cocking my head to the side. "I'm here to see Kakashi Hatake."

"Name?" she asks briskly, looking down at her computer. A bubble is popped.

"Ciannait Breen." I answer. She was quite clearly used to this, though a brow raised at the name I had given her. Clearly, she wasn't used to someone who had actually come from Ireland, or at least, she wasn't used to someone who had such an odd name.

"Floor twelve, room five eighty two."

And with that, I'm off, having no interest in further conversing with her. I also had an appointment to make, and while I wasn't as jetlagged as I could have been, the tiredness was creeping up on me quickly. Pushing my hair behind my ears, I step into the elevator, and press the corresponding number for the floor that I was heading to. The initial lurch made me squeeze my eyes shut, as I felt my stomach rise to my throat. A hand pressed to my chest, I lean against the railing, and quietly pray for this torture to be over. It ended just as quickly as it had started. I sent a mental thank you to whatever God or Goddess that was potentially up there, before making note to ask where the stairs were. A little bit of exercise never hurt no body, or at least, that's what I had to tell myself to make twelve flights of stairs seem less daunting.

Had I been a patient, I would have sat down and looked at the sickly green walls with great distaste as I await for someone to come fetch me, but given that I am not a patient, I walked right up to room five eighty two, and knocked. Loudly. The door opened after a minute, and I caught my first glimpse of Kakashi. He was tall, towering over me, with a fierce scowl resting upon his features. An eye was missing (the rumors were finally true), and he barked out his question of who I was, and just what I wanted. He also told me I was interrupting his nap, and I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was napping on the job? I chose to ignore commenting on such a thing, as we would probably get off on even worse of a foot than we had just gotten off of. Introductions were made, and I was looked up and down, scrutinized, if you will.

"I didn't think you'd be so short, Doctor Breen." he said finally, amusement clear in his voice. My fingers twitched at this, curling tighter around my purse. If there was one thing I learned, it was to keep my mouth shut. A sharp wit and a tongue that was practically barbed wire didn't get me anywhere, and instead, I forced a tense smile to my face. "Do come in."

The room isn't pasty and disgusting. It doesn't look like vomit, and I breathe a sigh of relief. There was only so much of a colour I could handle, as odd as that sounded. It had to do with my mentality, I suppose. I never saw a shrink myself, and I never really took the time to sit and analyze my own irrationality. My job was to help others. I don't need help, at least, that's what I managed to convince myself. Sometimes, reality raised it's head, and reminded me that I was human too; far from perfect.

"I take it from the excited phone call, and the fact that you're here, that you've indeed made the decision to take him on as your patient." he says mildly, sensing my unwillingness to say anything. I really wasn't fond of social interaction.

"It would appear so." I respond, continuing to look around. Despite the job he boasted, he had a life, with what seemed to be a child, of who looked nothing like him. Blond hair and bright blue eyes that even put Ino's to shame. He had odd markings on his face, and I wasn't sure if they were scars, or shoddily applied makeup. Either or, I once again, kept my observations to myself. "Is there any chance I can see him today? It was a bit of an obtuse phone call, but I dislike not working, and since my last patient has been cleared, I would very much appreciate getting down to business."

"The files you've sent me are interesting. It appears nothing adds up. Do you have any reason as to why such a thing has occurred?" I was beginning to pry, not minding myself as much as I should have. I was working now, my mind reaching out for any and all possibilities that could be brought to the table. Was her new patient manipulative? Just what did he suffer from? Was there potential for it all to be an act? I shook my head.

Kakashi seemed uncertain of what to say, I don't blame him. I came off strong, and I cleared my throat, feeling my face burn red in my embarrassment. I was out of bounds, launching my findings so abruptly, but the white haired man waved it off, a small smile curling his lips upwards after a moment of consideration.

"I think, Doctor Breen, you shall have to see for yourself. I'll have him brought up. I take it you won't mind security in the room with you? He has.. A bit of a reputation that he enjoys keeping intact." Kakashi said, moving his hand to his pager. I nodded, a wave of anticipation washing over me like a tidal wave. It was all I could to to not quake in my heels and practically _vibrate_ with excitement.

"Lovely. Give me a moment to freshen up. I have a standard procedure I go through, if you don't mind."

Who freshens up before seeking the attention of a madman? Why, I did. I found that keeping a strictly professional appearance was the only way to insure proper interactions between patient and myself, and only after sometime working with them, did I ever even remotely drop my mask. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, the brown locks moving compliantly into the thick elastic, and I set my purse down. Any and all jewelery was taken off my body to prevent any sources of weapons (I've had a few crafty patients), and I removed my heels. Feet now bare against the cold floor, I padded out the door, clipboard in hand (One would be amazed at just how much a purse could hold, if packed properly), and towards the room with the murmured number. It appears I was early.

The door was open, and I curled myself on one of the provided chairs, legs folded under me. A hand is pressed against my chin, as I drum my fingers against the pliable wood, humming quietly to myself. It didn't take long for two rather buff men to enter the room, with a pale, and terribly pale boy in tow. His hair was a vibrant red, almost looking like blood when oxygenated, and there were rings of black around his eyes. My brows furrowed. Insomnia was mentioned, but the extent to which he suffered was clearly neglected. Never before had I seen such a severe case. Upon his brow, on the right side of his forehead, was a tattoo, with some Japanese lettering on it. As I didn't exactly speak Japanese, I was unsure of what it said. I would ask later, if the opportunity presented itself. The thing that struck me the most, wasn't his hair, those black rings, or his shoddily done tattoo, but his eyes. They were a shade of stunning teal, almost turquoise, and the rage that swirled within their orbs made me incredibly uncomfortable. I had seen people who were angry before, at everything, but this.. This was different. This was hatred. I wet my lips with my tongue, my body coming alive as my pupils widened, and his gaze met mine.

He quietly made his way to the other couch, and I was quick to wave off the guards. I didn't need them there, especially with him chained up as such. They treated him like an animal, which, in actuality, wasn't wrong. He _was_ an animal. They all were, they were just the more intelligent form of them. However, he was being treated like an animal compared to human standards. The chains and my breathing were all I heard, before the cushion made a small sound, and he was sitting down, looking at me with those unwavering eyes of his. He was trying to read me, and I simply looked at him, making it quite clear that his usual intimidation tactics weren't going to work.

"Gaara, yes?" I ask quietly. He says nothing. I expected as much. "My name is Doctor Breen, and I've been called in to help. I suppose you've heard that quite a few times by now, so you aren't going to put much thought into it. That's perfectly alright."

Still, he says nothing, and I nod my head, scribbling something down. The guards look uneasy, and I do not blame them. "I came here all the way from Ireland. It rains a lot there, and from what I've seen, it looks a bit nicer in Canada, less wet."

His eyes hardened, and a small scowl began to creep its way onto his face. He clearly thought this was pointless. I jotted that down too.

"But anyways, I'm not here to pick at your mind, or push you into things you aren't comfortable with. The whole point of verbal therapy is it only works when both parties are interested. I can tell you're not." Trust issues. Anger problems. His hands were clenching and unclenching. I appeared to be hitting a nerve, or at least, I was angering him.

"It was nice to meet you, Gaara." I say, rather cheerily. Standing up, I offer him a small smile, and he glares back at me, displeased with having been brought out of his room just to deal with that rather pitiful interaction. I was less than pleased, but showing frustration, agitation, it would only fuel his silence on. "We'll be having sessions daily, for at least an hour. We don't have to talk, but you're required to be there."

If looks could kill, I would be six feet under right now. It was exhilarating.

There you have it! The first chapter! Hopefully, everyone enjoyed it! If there are any issues or errors, please let me know! -Zachie


	2. Chapter 2

Here we go with chapter two :) I'm mostly posting just to have this out here, but hey, if people enjoy it, that's great! :D

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 _Saturday, September 4th,_

 _The eyes are the gateway to his mind. The anger, no, the hated that lingers is put on display. It's a warning, to let others know not to get too close. He's wild, he's untamed, he will bite, and yet, not a single word is uttered. Only those eyes of his spark with any sort of recognition, interest, anything. He gives away more than he realizes with the way he looks at you, neck tense and teeth chewing at his inner lip. You can see him calculating, predicting your next move, staying one step ahead. To him, this is a game of dominance, a battle he will not lose. To me, this is a breakthrough in modern psychology, a new way to observe behaviours off a clinically perturbed genius. To be inside his head would be of great amusement, and education. Perhaps I am in the wrong, wanting to pick him apart, to settle within the folds of his brain, but it is simply who I am. To understand has been my purpose, and due to my stubborn nature, of course I had settled in the fields of one of the most misunderstood practices. How joyful. I am beginning to think I too, possess masochistic tendencies._

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If it was possible, the look he had given me the next day was was even more fearsome than that of the previous. This time, his teeth had curled back over his canines, and a guttural growl echoed the room. His eyes had narrowed to slits, the black rings encompassing those orbs of his. He was quite displeased with the situation, and Gaara made that quite clear to me. Instead of antagonizing him like I wanted to, I kept a stoic expression.

"Hello to you too." I forced out, my tongue feeling heavy against the roof of my mouth. I was determined to not say something witty, to further upset him, but I found myself cursing silently up to the Heavens when I did the exact thing I was telling myself not to do. "Seems like a wonderful day we're having, doesn't it?"

I sounded too chipper, and I almost jumped when his hand came down upon the wooden table. For a moment, I feared he had hurt himself, before I was promptly reminded that this wasn't about me, but about him. He was in control, in that little world of his. This was a game to him, a charade to see who could last the longest. My own lips curl over my teeth in a small, bit still noticeable smirk. I was proud, for having irked him. It showed me that behind that mask, there was still something that could be salvaged. There was also a good chance I could be reading too deeply into this, but I had a terrible habit for putting all my apples in one basket. I was either right, or I was dead wrong, and sadly, I didn't learn my lesson the first time. All of these are far from redeeming qualities for someone in my field, but as long as I didn't mess up on a legal scale, they were generally overlooked; I was just /that/ good.

"I'm sure you remember, but my name is Doctor Breen. I'm going to be working with you one on one for a while. Now, it says in your file, that your sister admitted you?" I say calmly, forcing my head back into the game. I could revel in sick revelation later, when I wasn't on the clock, and my every move being being monitored by both patient, and potential coworkers. Still, Gaara said nothing, those eyes still narrowed, but his hand retracted, fingers curling onto his lap as he looked at me. "Correct me if I'm wrong, will you? I detest misinformed files, and sadly, within my line of expertise, it is indeed quite a common thing."

"Alas, much to my dismay, I must go over standard procedures, along with some personal ones, that will help me further assess if I am indeed a good match for you. You understand that everything that is said between us, will remain confidential, unless either your life, or the lives of other alive beings are put at risk?""

I hated this part. It always made me seem stiff, like it was just a job. However, the law was the law, and I wasn't about to go breaking it. One of his fingers twitched. I took it as a yes. "You also understand that your file may be potentially pulled to be reviewed by those higher up than I, given that I have been called in from another country?" Another finger twitch. At least it was better than being openly ignored, I suppose. "Do you also understand that I am here as a last resort? Your reputation proceeds you, Mister Gaara. I was informed you were quite fond of it. May I inquire why?"

His lips curled upwards, no, they _stretched upwards_ and for the first time, I witnessed the maniacal individual that I was currently trying to get to know. Perhaps harass would be the correct word for what I was doing, but I wasn't going to admit that. He almost looked serene in his self proclaimed insanity, though his brows furrowed together when he noticed I didn't give the reaction he was looking for, or at least, I was assuming he was trying to get a reaction. He could make both of our lives so much easier by just talking to me, even if it was a lie. It would show interest, even if false. He knew this, and he avoided it, or at least he did until he opened his mouth, and raspy words tumbled forth.

"Nobody fucks with someone who won't hesitate to slit your throat." he practically purrs. A shiver runs down my spine. He was most certainly right about that. His words didn't phase me, as much as his voice did. It was deep, puberty had clearly been kind to him in that department, but it was thick, as if he hadn't had anything to drink for days. I had been pondering if he was a mute by choice, but this blew that theory out of the water. Now, I was wondering if he was being given water. He didn't cough, and he said nothing else, allowing a heavy silence to wash over us. What I wouldn't give to know just what he was thinking…

"True. I will give you that, but no one fucks with someone who times a well placed brow raising in their general direction as well." He did exactly that, amusement dancing in his eyes for a brief moment (I confess, I may also be seeing things. Sleep is difficult when you're far from home). "It's all about body language, but you already know this, given your disposition."

This was said as a fact. I was letting him know I knew he was smart. I coyly let him know that I was on the same page as he was, and hummed quietly, tapping my fingers on my clipboard. His eyes flicked downwards, towards the digits. My statement was far from acknowledged, which I expected. The response I had been provided had caught me off guard, but thankfully, school had all but beat that out of me. Never show your emotions, for they will latch on and begin feeding, sucking you dry of everything they could before you collapsed. It was then, that they would tilt your head upwards, with that wayward smile resting on their content faces as they looked upon the damage they had wrought. This was _their_ purpose in life. To take something as precious as a life, and to snuff it out. It was their design, albeit flawed. They didn't see it as such, however, which is why people like myself, had jobs.

"Do you know they call you an anomaly?" I ask suddenly, breaking the quiet. I was certain he did, but the reason for my question was not without reason. From what I gathered, he disliked pointless things, as did I. It would make my job much easier if we were on the same page from the get go. I watched him, his head tilting downwards, and that smile seeming to crack his face open. He quite liked that, didn't it? To be one of a kind.. It certainly fit the diagnosis of narcissist quite well. Perhaps they did get something right, but I doubt it, given that he clearly lacked any signs of dementia and he most certainly wasn't struggling with depression.

"Its a good feeling, isn't it, to be one of a kind? I'm quite fond of it myself, given that I have to be shipped around the world to assist people. There are not many in my field of work that can boast such a feat. Do not mind me, however, given that I am bragging right now. An attempt at a connection that is going horribly wrong, judging from the look that is snaking its way onto your face. I'm not going to apologize, given that we are here to learn about one another, me more so than you, but that is besides the point, I find."

I could tell he was angry now, despite the rather passive look that rest upon his face. Our eyes never disconnected, and it was oddly intimate, or at least, as intimate as such a situation could be. How I longed to reach out, and cup his face, to press my forehead against his and will my existence into his head. I needed to understand, I had to.

"Why are you here?" he asks, his voice monotonous. It sounded odd, something in such a rich baritone sounding so dead. I fought off the urge to snicker and make a terrible joke about dead babies. Certainly, my humor wouldn't be appreciated right now, or ever more likely than not. Dead babies were a refined taste, much like my interest in specific humans, and while macabre humor tended to work with them, Gaara clearly lacked the ability to laugh.

"What are you looking for me to say? I'm here to help? I'm here because they had no one else? I'm here because it's my job? That's a loaded question you just asked, with vexed meanings." I muse, tapping a finger deliberately against my lower lip. "You're not the type of person looking for what I have to bring to the table, you're looking for a specific answer, and I'm afraid I cannot give it to you. _Yet_."

My voice drawls out the last word, making it quite clear that I had no intentions of leaving as his psychologist whatsoever. He presented me with a problem, an equation without an answer, and I had to find a way to solve it. Hell, half the question was missing, and was replaced with a grin that told me that I wasn't going to get all the information that I needed. He goes back to saying nothing, teal eyes shifting away from my frame, as he leans forth to carefully grasp the styrofoam cup of water that was resting in front of him. I also take this moment to look away from him, pushing the back end of my pen in my mouth, as I contemplated just what I was going to write down. He was making this incredibly difficult, and I doubted that Hatake would be alright if I just wrote down that he was being a miserable prick, even if it was the truth. Anyone could see that, and for the amount I was being paid, he surely wanted results.

Grinding my teeth against the plastic, I frown. For once, I needed a game plan that I couldn't just wing. Gaara was unlike the rest. I had thought them genius, but they paled in comparison to the man sitting before me, who's eyes were more than likely glued to me again. It made me wonder just what he was fully capable of if would be allowed to roam free and live the way he wanted to. That sparked the question if he even wanted to be around others, given that it said that he only lashed out when he was pestered. So.. Why didn't he lash out now? Those chains wouldn't hold him back if he truly wanted to harm someone, and I had a nagging feeling that he would be agile enough to evade the guards for a short time. I narrow my eyes, looking up before gasping, my pen dropping with a quiet thunk against the wood. It rolled onto my lap, and I subconsciously pushed myself further against the chair, trying to sink into the comforting material.

 _He was right there._

I'm unsure how I didn't hear him. Was I truly so lost within my thoughts that I had made the rookie mistake of spacing out? I could feel my heart hammering against my chest, desperate to break out of the confines of my ribs. I could taste his breath, thick and minty. Clearly, dental hygiene meant something to him. How I had the time to be thinking about his teeth right now, baffled me, but I felt frozen. Things like this have happened before, but it lacked the cunning motive that Gaara clearly had brewing in that head of his. It lacked the situational awareness that wasn't meant to frighten me. His tongue drew forth from behind his cracked lips, and darted over the flesh that rest under my eye. I suppressed a shudder. My cheek had been licked before, my neck, but never had such a slippery organ come so close to something so vulnerable. He doesn't linger long, and I could feel his mouth rise close to my ear, where his voice echoed, as I sat there, looking stunned.

" _I bet you'd taste delicious."_

I don't think he meant that in a sexual manner.

The sudden thud of him being slammed down against the table shook me out of my stupor, and when I registered just what had happened, his head was being pulled back by thick fingers, exposing his face to me. He was laughing, the sound choked from the strain on his throat, and his eyes were wild. I had thought he looked untamed before, but now? Even I was terrified by the sight presented before me. His laugh hit an unnatural octave, and I winced, before the guard slammed his face back down against the table, and he hissed, bucking his body upwards in an attempt to wind the man holding him down. On the size scale, Gaara was clearly in the disadvantage, but I still heard the grunt come from the other man. I sat there, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to do anything outside of breathing, and even then, I was faced with new found confusion. My breaths were ragged, my mouth heaving air in the most unceremonious way. Surely, I wasn't getting what I needed to keep my brain functioning, but I didn't have time to dwell on that, before Gaara's body suddenly went limp, the snarl falling off his face. The fight vanished almost immediately, and he was lifted up, his eyes lolled in the back of his head as he was tossed onto the chair. A warm hand is pressed against my shoulder, and I look up, blinking.

"Are you alright, Doctor Breen?" a kind voice asks me. I merely nod my head, my attention returning to the limp figure of my patient. Seeing him out of it, was different. I immediately decided I didn't like it.

"He's done that before. He's a predator, and quite clearly, you became the prey." the voice says again. I finally make it out to be female. "He almost suffocated his last therapist with the same technique. Once his fingers get around you, they're almost impossible to get off. The guy has a stunning pain threshold."

My head still spinning, I rest it against the palm of my hand. This was unlike me. I had dealt with worse, but there was something off in that time bomb, something that made me feel inferior. I could almost hear that blasted ticking. "Well, I would thank you, but he shouldn't have been punished so harshly. I dropped my guard, and he took advantage of it, as he is expected to."

I heard someone click their tongue disapprovingly. There was an air of disagreement floating around now, and my reaction to being attacked was the center of it. One could not deny that I presented a fine point, but I could also not deny that I was somehow rendered unable to do anything from just his voice alone. "Honestly, you cannot punish a dog for doing what is within its nature, and within Gaara's nature, is to do exactly what he did."

"Which is exactly why we take the proper precautions." comes Kakashi's voice. "He's a danger to himself, and to society. Due to recent behaviour, we allowed him out of the straightjacket, but that was apparently a mistake."

 _You could good behaviour your way out of a straightjacket? The more you know._

"Well, he's certainly not going to harm anyone now, all slumped over like that." I scoffed, waving my hand rather dismissively. I could feel daggers being glared into the back of my head, and the woman in the room shuffles forth, and moves to take Gaara's vitals. Check the blood pressure, monitor the breathing, all that medical shit I could never get into. When she was more than certain he was fine, the stops fussing over him, taking a step back to let the guards know that he was safe to be moved. Then, she turned to look at me, as if I had done something wrong.

"That's the third time this week we've had to put him under, you know." she says shrilly. Immediately, she reminded me of a shrew.

"I do now."

"Come on, Sakura, no need to be harsh. Every doctor we've had in here has made the same mistake, and it has resulted in the same course of action. I'm sure Doctor Breen here had no intentions of having him pumped with drugs." Kakashi interjects. He tossed her a warning look, and the lady named Sakura (Who also had pink hair; how fitting), puffed out her chest, but held back whatever nasty comment she wanted to make. She clicks her tongue again, looking disapprovingly at me. Apparently, I had made quite a bad impression on her, which was honestly fine by me. She was a nurse, I was a psychologist. We had different purposes in this world, and as long as Gaara wasn't knocked out again, I think I should be fine.

"You'd think one of them would actually read the files, Kakashi." she says, turning her nose in the air before storming off. I was once again unsure of just what to do. Did I chase after her and apologize? Doctor Hatake seemed to be used to this, as he only sighed, and ran a hand through the mop on his head. He then proceeded to crack his knuckles and offer me a rather sheepish look.

"She cares about the patients?" he offered in a way of an explanation. It would do for now, but I was certain there was more hiding under the slowly bubbling surface. Eventually, I'd find out, as it was part of both my job, and my obnoxiously nosy attitude. Copying Gaara, I say nothing, and bite at my lower lip, raising a hand to press under my eye. Kakashi clearly sensed I was disgruntled, as he gave me a nudge.

"He said he thinks I would taste delicious." I say in response to his careful attempt to pull me back into reality. "Now _that_ , was not listed in the files." I could feel the frown etch itself onto Kakashi's face.

"It most certainly is not. Is that what he said, word for word?"

"No, he said he bet I would taste delicious. A bit odd, considering that isn't something you say to someone who you haven't even taken out on a date." There it was, my terrible sense of humor. It drew a dry laugh from Kakashi. "Bet he's a real charmer when it comes to the ladies."

"Doctor Breen, you have no idea."

"How rude. Now you've gone and intrigued me."

* * *

And there we have chapter two! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_And here we have chapter three!_

* * *

 _Friday, September 10th,_

 _I'm well aware I said I would be meeting with him daily, but he's been making such a feat impossible. He is literally doing everything within his power to keep me away from him. I think he dislikes the game we have begun to play, as he's making sure the ball stays in his court. That is fine with me. Eventually, drastic measures will have to be taken so I may resume his treatment. Kakashi has mentioned putting him on an anti-psychotic. I shut the idea down before it had a second to foster within my mind. There is no point in drugging him up, especially if I wish to make progress with him. That would chase away any inkling of trust that may happen, despite the fact that it doesn't logically make any sense. Trust is not a word he understands, nor is willing to understand. I have boundaries I must work within, and he is quite insistent on keeping me away from the walls. I have regulations I must upkeep, or I will lose my position as his psychologist. There must be a way for one to explain that traditional methods of therapy will simply not work on such an individual. I wonder if I'll receive odd looks if I suggest shock treatment?_

–

I am unsure if I had ever been so frustrated in my life. Surely, this could not be the peaking point of a negative emotional high? I've had traumatic events happen in my childhood, and yet, they do not upset me any where near as much as this has. I let out a sigh as I stretch my hands above me, my shoulders popping from the stretch. It had been a while since I had last done yoga, as I was unpacking in my temporary apartment. There was barely a moment of time for myself, when I was being ushered around and displayed like a prized trophy. By whom, one may inquire? Perhaps the only friend I possessed in this place, and I coined that term rather loosely. Kakashi had taken a liking to my prickly personality, offering to take me out to lunch to further discuss what routes I was willing to take with my charge. Skepticism had danced through my brain, as it would most people, but I had agreed, after making it clear it would be strictly professional. He had only laughed at me, and said something about how he was way out of my league. I had snorted and resisted the urge to flip him off. It was I who wanted to remain on the clock with this, wasn't it? That plan had failed miserably.

North American McDonald's tasted so different from Irish McDonald's. That was a fact, and no one was going to prove me wrong.

Kakashi had said something about Gaara's siblings wanting to meet me. I had thought nothing of it, as it was common practice for the immediate family of the patient to wish to see the person designated to help them. However, my friend (again, loose term there), didn't seem too pleased with this notion. I went to inquire why, but he had beat around the bush, quite literally. How he managed to put a bush between the two of us within the short duration of our conversation was something of a mystery, but I was quickly learning to not question what he did. He was spontaneous, and full of life. I almost envied what I knew of him. He could laugh when it was appropriate, and stay serious when it was called for. His social queues were impeccable, and he could read people with ease that even made me cautious around him. He picked up on this quickly, and didn't pester me when I went silent. He was probably waiting to get to know me, before sending me into a flurry of discomfort that would most certainly amuse him. I was oddly alright with this, given that he didn't seem like a completely terrible person. He didn't seem one hundred percent sane either, but who was? We worked in a field where the line between sanity, and insanity, frequently intermingled. Our version of normal was vastly different from those who lived in modern society.

"Honestly, Kakashi. I don't see how they're going to be terrible people." I announce.

"I didn't say they were terrible, I just said they're prone to disagreements." he corrected. "When it comes to their youngest brother.. They're rather.. Reserved and standoffish."

"They care enough to want to seek me out."

"I'm not sure that was fully out of concern, Cinnie."

That brought a scowl to my face. Ever since this after work hanging out we have been doing, he decided to grace me with a _nickname._ It wasn't the first time that I had been called Cinnie, and if I was being honest, it was better than my mother calling me her Cinnabun. It honestly wasn't hard to say my name, and I even waved off his odd pronunciation of it! My cheeks puffed out in an equally childish manner, and I was scarlet by the time I noticed what I had done. Professional or not, it was difficult to maintain a mask of seriousness outside of my work hours, when I wasn't used to doing such a thing in the first place. I wasn't even getting paid for this, so the idea of having to maintain such a stiff attitude was far from appealing. As tempted as I was to give up, I didn't know this man enough to make me feel comfortable exposing such a vulnerable part of who I was. Trust was something that Gaara and I had in common, or in this case, lack of it. Some trusted fully until one gave them a reason to no longer do so. I didn't understand it. Trust should be earned, and outside of my mother, there was none who have earned it.

I didn't lack friends, I just wasn't a social butterfly. I went out to the pub with my 'gaggle' some nights, but didn't get plastered. A few drinks to taste, and that was all. I was hit on, which wasn't surprising, given that once either gender had liquid courage in their system, they indeed have their temporary solution to their anxiety. I was far from interested. A wall was put up the second I was approached, and I watched them with cool amusement. How could one expect to find romance within the confines of a false pretense? They could not. I was no better than they.

"If not concern for him, concern for something." I said finally, "To maintain an image, to nurse a new one.."

Had I been paying attention, I would have seen Kakashi nod grimly, his face set downwards. I was not paying attention however, as I had noticed a sign that said something about an aquarium. As much as I prided myself in being a mature, responsible adult, who did her groceries and paid her bills on time, there was something wondrous about things such as zoos and aquariums. Perhaps it was the colours, reminding me just how vibrant the world was? I saw it mostly in white and black, as my patients did. The abstract idea that things possessed different hues was something I was familiar with in an artistic sense, but not when it came to how humans acted. It was one or the other, with no gray in between. There was good and bad, insane and sane, normal and abnormal. There were those who were in the institution, and those who were outside of it. The walls of a hospital's psychiatric ward were nothing compared to what these people went through, and 'American Horror Story' did a cruel sort of justice to it, in a religious manner that was overly dramatic. Religion was respected, and practiced, but under strict supervision. After all, they were people too, even if they weren't being treated as such.

"Did they say when they wanted to meet me?" Realization dawned upon me that I actually had no idea as to what was going on. Kakashi had their numbers, while I was left in the dark. I didn't trust the older male to play middle man, and I began to pester him for their contact information immediately. He relented rather quickly, something else having caught his eye. A lopsided wave was tossed in my general direction, and he was off in that slow manner that he called walking. I almost felt bad for anyone who socialized with him in a manner that required them to go places.

Pulling my phone out from my jean pocket, my eyes scanned over the screen quickly to make sure I hadn't missed any calls from my mother (I hadn't), and I was quick to tap in the number that I had been given. The phone rang once, twice, thrice, before a feminine voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Temari?"

"Yes. May I ask who's calling?"

"Doctor Breen, the psychologist working with your brother, Gaara."

I then heard a click, and it was apparent that I had been hung up on. That was not what I was expecting, and I was about to turn my phone off, when it rang again, but this time, it came from a different number. I answered; after all, I was still in the working mentality, even if I wasn't seeing my friendly little patient.

"Hello? Doctor Breen? This is Temari. I'm sorry I had to hang up, but I wanted to get Kankuro in on the call, and he was holed up in his room. Did you say you were working with Gaara?" she asks, her voice rather aloof.

"Yes, that is indeed what I said. Are you alright with that? I understand he's had issues with past therapists, and Doctor Hatake wanted me to touch base with you, given that you've shown interest in speaking with me." I explain.

"Are you free in about an hour?"

"I was thinking of checking out the aquatic center downtown, but certainly, I can be free. Is there some place you would like to meet?" Temari didn't waste any time in arranging things, and for that, I was silently thankful. Details were exchanged, and I was told to meet the two at a Starbucks. This shouldn't be too difficult, or at least, that is what I thought until I saw the sheer number of that green sign in one area. It seemed everywhere I turned, there was one. Just how did she expect me to navigate myself through a city I had never been to? I did the logical thing, and asked someone; a kindly old lady who pointed me in the right direction. I was polite, saying thank you, and wishing her a good day, before scurrying off. The city was a lot bigger than I had anticipated, and when I had finally reached my destination, I groaned with dread.

I didn't know what they looked like.

So there I stood, awkwardly in a Starbucks, reading the too small print of their menu, and wondering just what a Flat White was. It was listed under the espresso drinks, so I made the assumption that it was strong. I was moving towards the line, when I heard my name being called. I turned around, and was met with a rather elegant looking duo.

The woman was tall, and quite shapely. Her hair was a dirty blonde, and pulled back into a messy ponytail, her bangs framing her soft face nicely. She was donned in a woolen jumper, but the make was so fine, I immediately felt under dressed. Her pants were clearly something from a richer store, and I felt a twinge of jealously, but forced myself to focused my attention on the male, who was startling handsome. His own hair was shorter than both his siblings, and he had.. Was that paint splattered on his nose? Unlike his sister, he was wearing tighter clothes, that quite clearly showed off the muscle toning that he seemed quite proud of. I understood why, and had to advert my attention back to Temari, who was watching me in amusement.

"I'd ask if you liked what you saw, but I really don't want to think anyone could be attracted to my younger brother." she says with a grin. Despite her friendly demeanor, her eyes were hard, and they were the same shade of teal that Gaara had. They lacked the intense emotions that danced in his orbs, but I knew she was picking me apart mentally. She noticed I was smaller than her, pudgier, and most certainly not as well kept. My hair was down, and while I was wearing my own jumper, it didn't look anywhere near as pretty as hers did. Mine didn't hug my body, while hers was tight fit, showing off that she was indeed confident with how she looked.

"If you could forgive me for my momentary lack of professionalism.." I began, but I was interrupted by Kankuro.

"You don't look like you could handle a fly, let alone Gaara!" he says with a snort. Temari turned around and shot him a glare, that even Gaara would wither under, or at least, I thought he would wither under. One would have to be immune to fear to not back down from that dangerous look in her eyes. Kankuro did just that, shifting his gaze and muttering something under his breath.

"Forgive him. He doesn't know how to keep rude comments to himself." Temari says coolly. She agreed with him, from how she looked at me. She had turned her nose, and made a beeline for the most remote corner in the shop, and I was more than happy to follow her. The crowd was making me anxious, and I didn't do well with dealing with my own issues. Others, I could handle, but my own? Now that was another story and a can of worms I wasn't prepared to work on. Motioning for me to choose my seat, Temari parks herself against the wall, and Kankuro follows. Fingers are curled within one and other, and elbows are placed upon the table. They clearly meant business.

"Who exactly are you?" Temari asks quietly. I swallow thickly.

"Ciannait Breen. I'm a psychologist from Ireland who has been called to assist your brother in his healing process." There was no time for me to be uncomfortable. She had the same air of dominance as Gaara did, but it was far less life threatening than the redhead. That was almost soothing.

"They flew you in?" she asks, surprise echoing her voice.

"Yes." I replied.

"Then you clearly must be good at what you do."

"I would like to think so, yes."

"Then you should know a lost cause when you see one."

I opened my mouth, and then closed it. A lost case? Is that how they saw their brother? Something so broken it could not be saved? I had heard the words before, most families thought the same thing after the patient was admitted to an institute, but it still struck a chord within me each time it was said. Normally, I would be asked if there was anything I could do, in a desperate voice that made my heart clench with unwanted sympathy. The families also reminded me that I was human, in a much kinder way than those in my care did. The concern in their eyes was touching, and if I could play the violin, I probably would, but my musical talent was next to none. I didn't even participate in karaoke nights with my mother, and people there were drunk.

"I wouldn't say he's a lost cause. He's not going to be easy to work with, he's made that clear, but if you just give up on people, especially people such as your brother, who have grown accustomed to it, he's going to continue with how his less than acceptable behaviour." I say slowly, picking my words carefully. "An old dog can be taught new tricks, so to say."

Terrible analogy, I know, but it was all I could think of right now. Kankuro and Temari didn't appreciate it either, as the uninterested look on Kankuro's face was replaced with a disgusted one. I cringed, doing my best to sink into my chair at my poor choice of words. Public settings were not my forte, and I wished I could vanish. Just, poof, disappear. Anywhere would be better than being held under such hostile and pompous stares.

"I didn't mean it in the way you're clearly thinking. The brain is organic, and it can be rewired through intensive forms of therapy. When something isn't working right, it's my job to nudge it in the right direction. Things such as medication would be prescribed by someone else who would see to him regularly, and I would be the one that helped him control things such as his anger, and the narcissism he's displayed. All I would be doing is rerouting the way he thinks, but it would take a long time as he has a rather sunny disposition. That is the psychological definition of what I just said, so can you please stop looking at me like you're going to murder me?"

I won't mention that I was debating shock therapy. They'd probably kill me and somehow manage to get away with it too. I could see the cogs working in their brains as they processed just what I had said. I really, really, should have used a different analogy, but it was the first one that came to my mind in regards to what I was attempting to explain.

"Now I'm not saying I want him medicated. From what I've gathered so far, I can tell he's been heavily misdiagnosed. Your brother is clearly not depressed, nor does he have this.. Crippling anxiety that his file reads. The pleas of insanity aren't sitting well with me either, which makes me question just who he's been seeing. He was transferred here from America, yes?"

There was an uncomfortable silence that washed over us. They didn't like what I had said, nor the way I had said it. That was incredibly unexpected. I had literally just told them there was less wrong with him than they were led to believe. As his family, should they not be overjoyed that he wasn't as messed up as they thought? I know I would be, and I know most families had a renewed sense of hope when I brought forth my speculations. My teeth tugged at my cheeks, and I began to worry at the soft flesh, until I felt the coppery taste of blood assault my tongue sharply. I cleared my throat, coughing slightly at the thickness of the substance, as I laced my fingers together. Either they were making this awkward, or I had screwed up somehow, and was failing to realize that I had done so. Organized files that I stored in my brain were rapidly being pulled out as I attempted to assess the situation, a panicky breath spilling forth as my breathing hitched when Temari leaned forth to say something.

"You're telling me, that all those other doctors, are wrong about Gaara?" she hisses.

Fuck.

"Yes. That is what I am telling you. He doesn't display textbook symptoms of more than two thirds of the diagnosed issues, and therefor, doesn't qualify. Excuse me for asking, but why are you two not through the roof? You've just been told that your brother has a chance to live a normal life, and you look as if I told you he's been hit by a truck and will spend the rest of his life in comatose."

"Don't get us wrong, we're ecstatic." Kankuro says, rather dryly. I wanted to smack him. "It's just you're the first doctor that has told us he has a chance. Everyone else told us to give up, that he was going to stay in the loony bin for the rest of his life, rocking back and forth and muttering about whatever sick shit he fantasies about."

"I.. I don't think he does that. From our brief encounters, he's been a very intellectual being. I have beliefs that he's played the doctors into giving him these illnesses.. He's smart enough, and it would certainly be a power play for him." I say, shaking my head as I rest my chin on the top of my hands. "I think he's playing a game, much along the lines of false psychopathy. I haven't know him long enough to draw a conclusion, given that he's refusing to see me, and I don't believe on encroaching the patient's privacy."

There was that silence again. All three of the siblings seemed to be prone to it, but for different reasons. It was a lot to swallow, the information I had just brought to the table. Shock was also a viable way to respond to something so different from what they were used to. That gave me a small surge of reassurance that they would eventually respond in a matter that wasn't sarcastic. Maybe they weren't one for public displays of emotions? That also could be a legitimate reason.

"So, essentially, you're telling us, that with work, he can be.. He can be better?" Temari asks, her voice wavering for a split moment.

"Only if he wants to be better, yes. You can't force him to do things he doesn't want to do.. But, in time, and with a lot of work, you can have your brother back." Nodding, a smile tugged at my lips. There it was, that small ray of hope peaking through.

"Have him back? We never had him in the first place." Kankuro spat. "Don't go talking like you'll actually be able to 'save' him. He doesn't want help, because he doesn't think there's anything wrong with him. He fucking laughed when he killed the family pet, and was caught skinning it. No normal, no _sane_ , person does that!"

He was right, unless it was a taxidermist, but I would keep that to myself. I heavily doubted that Gaara had an interest in taxidermy. If he did, well then, I would probably laugh until I was heaving. That could be an excuse to kill the family pet, but the laughing bit was what struck out to me. He has violent tendencies, but he showed me certain kindness that he didn't apply to the animal. Well, if you can call having your head cradled while your eye was almost licked kindness. It was more so to hold me in place, but it still stands, somewhat. He could have easily pushed me forward and bashed my head against the side of the wood, but he didn't. I would mention this to Kakashi, given that I would be the first female who was working with him. The rest had been males. Homosexual tendencies were apparently a no go, but I would need to further investigative into that possibility. He was a basket case of things, and untangling the lies from the truth was going to be a right pain in the rear.

"His file is… Shockingly barren when it comes to information regarding his past. It would be wonderful if you could help fill in a few of those blanks.." I mutter, going back to chewing my cheeks. "The more information I have will help further my assessment and help plan the best course of action for his recovery.."

They were shaking their heads, giving me a somber look. They really didn't believe that he could get better, even if there was a glimmer of hope in Temari's voice. Did Gaara know that? I would keep it to myself as to not deter him from the positivity that he could grasp.

I have come to the conclusion that talking to them is like pulling teeth. They weren't going to say anything, despite my overwhelmingly obvious need for information. I could see what Kakashi meant now, as he didn't think the concern was for their brother, so much as for another motive. In time, I would find out what it was, but for now, I pushed it to the back of my head. I had other things to worry about, such as how to aid the man that literally seemed to have no one standing by his side.

It was distressing to think about, and I inhaled sharply when Kankuro stood up. Temari probably shot him a look to tell him to sit back down, but as the receding footsteps that reached my ears, I summarized that he had left. A sigh follows the patter of his shoes, along with the voice I had pegged belonged to the oldest sibling.

"I'm sorry.. Temper runs in the family." Was all she said before darting off after her brother. I was left sitting there, unsure of what had just transpired. I hadn't been stood up, but they had left before we could actually delve into a meaningful conversation about the roles they would take in Gaara's recovery. For now, I would mark them as obsolete, but there was already a plan formulating in my head as to how I could get them involved. Far from appropriate was my line of thinking, but there was part of me that simply couldn't cope with the idea that someone's family had utterly given up on them. As it was once said by a wise blue alien: 'Ohana means family, and family means that no one gets left behind, or forgotten.'

In my professional opinion, this family needs to sit down and watch 'Lilo and Stitch'.


End file.
